


When the combat's ended

by panasonicyouth



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Angst, F/F, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25629973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panasonicyouth/pseuds/panasonicyouth
Summary: Left alone on the Santa Barbara beach, Ellie reflects on her past and moves towards an uncertain future. Complete.
Relationships: Dina/Ellie (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel (The Last of Us)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

_Gird on the gospel armor of faith and hope and love  
And when the combat's ended he'll carry you above  
Oh, had I wings I would fly away and be at rest_

_-Ecstasy, by Crooked Still_

* * *

The tears stopped, eventually, but the blood continued to slowly ooze from her disfigured hand, dripping steadily into the cold salt water beneath her and dissipating into the vastness of the ocean. Ellie had been sitting on the beach alone for a long time, lost inside herself, wrestling with the enormity of everything she’d done and failed to do. The sounds of distant gunfire and screaming had finally died down, leaving only the gentle white noise of the waves. Her instincts were still screaming at her, tireless. _Can’t stay here. Not safe._

She rocked her weight forward and rose unsteadily to a standing position. The rush of light headedness and numbness in her legs almost sent her crashing back into the shallows, but she only stumbled before regaining her balance. She sloshed slowly over to the boat with her pack in it. Her right hand was stuck to her left where the blood had partially coagulated. She pulled it away and felt a renewed, intense, throbbing pain where her fingers now ended, and the wound started bleeding heavily again. She braced herself and slid clumsily into the small vessel.

A wave of dizziness came over her. _Have to stop the bleeding._ She rinsed her good hand as best she could in the ocean water, then pulled a bottle of grain alcohol, a handful of the cleaner rags, and an almost depleted roll of duct tape out of the bottom of her pack. She took a long swig of the bitter, dry liquor, then dumped a healthy amount over her ruined fingers, hissing at the burning pain. She wound the dressing firmly but not tightly around the wound, securing it with duct tape. Turning her attention to the mooring line holding the boat, she reached for her knife and found nothing. _Fuck._

She slid back into the cold salt water and flicked her flashlight on, casting about near the shore. She was afraid for a moment that it was lost to her, but then caught a glimmer of reflected light under the water. She pulled the knife free of the wet sand and wiped it on her pants. The blade was in bad shape from its recent rough use, rolled and chipped in spots, but it had never failed her. She cut the boat free, yanked the starter cord until the motor sputtered to life, then headed north, into the thick fog.

* * *

The fog cleared after she’d put some distance between herself and the Rattler compound. It was a clear, bright night, the full moon hanging high and countless stars blanketing the sky. She’d loved nights like these back on the farm, far enough from the lights of Jackson that they didn’t dull the rest of the sky. Lying sprawled in the field on a blanket, looking up and letting her imagination venture a million light years away. Talking to Dina in the warm summer breeze, kissing her, making love with her. She let herself remember, basking in the warmth of the fond memory, but the harsh reality of the present turned it bittersweet. _Dina. Potato. Why am I so fucking stupid?_ She felt a sharp pang of regret and tears welled up in her eyes again, but she forced them down. _That’s enough goddamn crying for one night. Self-pity isn’t flattering, and you don’t deserve it anyways._

Another hour or two passed, and she was struggling desperately to stay awake when her destination finally came into view. She ran the boat ashore and disembarked, shrugging her pack onto her shoulders and walking towards the bigger boat already beached there. It had seemed secure enough, on a secluded beach with cliffs all around. Abby had headed south, so she wouldn’t be using it.

_Abby._ The thought of her no longer made Ellie’s fist clench, her jaw tighten, her ears ring. She had held Abby’s life in her hands on that beach and felt absolutely nothing. No relief, no righteous anger, no joy. Killing this emaciated, beaten down woman and the young boy she seemed to care for would not assuage her guilt at being left alive while people all around her died. It would not fill the hole Joel’s death had left in her heart. If in the end she’d drowned that pitiful woman beneath the waves, could she really believe that she’d have been able to forgive Joel, given the time? That he wasn’t already lost to her, even before he’d died?

She struggled up the boat’s ladder and into the small cabin at the front of the boat, closing the hatch behind her. As she closed the door and let her pack fall to the floor she felt the full force of her exhaustion and the pain of her injuries bear down on her. She felt like she’d been put through a meat grinder. Peeling off all of her blood soaked, damp clothing and tossing it into a corner, she caught a glimpse of herself in a small mirror on the wall.

“Jesus.”

_You look like a fucking runner, Ellie._ Dried blood was caked into her hair and clung to her skin in patches around injuries, some of which she didn’t even remember taking. So much blood. A gash from a near miss with a machete here, a scratch from a clicker’s fingernails there, burns from a Molotov cocktail, scrapes from diving into cover and bruises from close fighting. The beginnings of a truly spectacular black eye from a punch she’d taken on the beach that had almost knocked her out clean. All of it paled in comparison to the pain radiating from her side and hand.

She dug through the lower cabinets and found a round metal basin, a five gallon jug of fresh water, and even a medical kit. Working slowly, tenderly, she scrubbed as much blood and grime from her skin as she could, applying disinfectant and dressings as needed. The water in the bin darkened quickly and had to be emptied several times. When she moved on to her hair, it actually _crunched_ as she tried to clean it. She resisted the urge to just hack it off with a knife and after some effort it came clean, mostly.

Rummaging through the dressers, she eventually found a pair of cotton shorts and a too-large t-shirt that had ‘Utah Jazz’ printed on the front. _I’d like to hear some Utah jazz. Must be good if they have t-shirts for it._ Feeling almost human, Ellie sat with a sigh on the large bed in the back of the cabin and dragged her pack into her lap. She hadn’t eaten in two days now. She dug through a side compartment and came up with the last bag of venison jerky she’d brought from the farm. From another section she pulled out a chocolate bar, and something underneath it caught her eye.

A simple leather bracelet, decorated with blue beads and a silver hand with an eye on the back. A sign of protection, according to Dina. She held it in her lap for a moment, suffused with a bone deep sadness. After a long moment, she wound it around her right wrist and did the clasp. _What right do you have?_ She silenced her inner critic and leaned back against the wall. _I just need to talk to her again. To tell her I’m sorry. If she never wants to see me again after that then so be it._

The jerky was salty and chewy, but satisfying. The sweetness of the chocolate afterwards was almost heavenly and helped her forget for a moment the pain she felt all over. Sated, she lay down gently and pushed the window by the bed mostly open, letting in the ocean breeze and the smell of salt. She hadn’t taken time to appreciate it earlier, but California was a beautiful place. She loved the beaches here, the sight of the sun setting over the ocean. She’d technically seen the ocean before, back in the Boston QZ, but it wasn’t the same.

As exhausted as she was, sleep did not come easily. Memories kept swirling in her mind, painful and happy, mundane and extraordinary. Eventually, cautiously, she let her mind turn to thoughts of Joel, something that had been strictly off limits to her for a long time. Meeting him for the first time, thinking he was a world class asshole. Leaning into him, his arm around her after Sam and Henry had died. Caring for him during that long, bitterly cold winter. Learning to swim in a smelly, muddy pond outside Jackson. Hearing him play guitar for her for the first time, his hands over hers teaching her basic chords. Sitting in the space capsule with him, the recording on her Walkman transporting them to a better time, a better place.

Silent tears rolled down her face. She closed her eyes and let them come this time, let the emotion swell up inside of her. Sadness, and loss, and pain, but also joy, love, mirth. She remembered the last time they’d spoken, on the porch that night, the way his voice had cracked, the relief from years of tension she’d seen on his face and felt in herself. He’d resumed playing guitar as she walked away, the warm, soothing sound following her into the darkness of the night. She held the music in her mind, replaying it over and over, until she finally drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep


	2. Chapter 2

The pain from Ellie’s injuries had magnified what felt like several times the next morning, and it was all she could do to drag herself out of bed. For several days she cautiously ventured only a short distance from her temporary shelter, scavenging for food and fresh water, and searching for an abandoned car to siphon gas from into the small tank that had been in the cabin of the boat.

She considered her route back to Jackson carefully. The way she had taken to Santa Barbara had been a brutal one, through the dry, rocky forests and foothills of Utah and the barren, blasted deserts of Nevada. It was the most direct path, but she had nearly died a handful of times on her way. Hunting and scavenging was exceedingly difficult in the desert, and she had gone without food for days on end. She hadn’t encountered any of the bandits that roamed the desert, but she’d heard stories from travelers that passed through Jackson that were unpleasant, to say the least. The thought of Las Vegas still chilled her to the bone. She would never forget the sounds of the thousands of screaming infected trapped within the walls of the QZ, drifting out across the desert.

Ultimately she decided to journey up the coastline to the northern border of California, where she knew there was a settlement called Crescent City that traders from Jackson dealt with from time to time. Hopefully she would be able to barter there for a horse and other supplies for the trip inland. The journey through the wetter, cooler climate with more game for hunting would be significantly easier, although it would cost her time. She felt an urgency to get back to Jackson and see what she could salvage of her life, but it would do her no good to end up dead.

She debated whether to take the small motor boat from the Rattler camp or the larger, more comfortable one Abby had abandoned, but settled on the small boat because it would require less gas and much less effort to get it back off the beach. After about a week of rest, recovery, and preparation she felt confident enough to set out northward.

* * *

She moved in fits and starts up the coastline, stopping occasionally to find gasoline or food. At night she drug the boat ashore and slept in it to keep away from the sand that seemed to find its way into everything. During the day she tried to keep herself protected from the sun with a battered old olive green umbrella she’d found in the floorboard of a car and a garish baseball cap that had ‘California Girl’ printed on it, along with flowers and a rainbow. Sometimes the heat would still be too much, and she would stop, shuck off all of her clothes and wade into the cool, refreshing water of the Pacific.

Ellie loved to stand out in the water where she could just barely touch bottom and fight the waves – floating over some, diving underneath others, leaping into and over the surf crashing towards her. Sometimes the waves got the better of her, knocking her down, pulling her under, but it was all part of the experience. The feeling of the relentless, seemingly eternal tide was comforting in some way, a physical reminder of how small she and her experience really were. When she’d had enough she would wade ashore and let the sun dry her, soaking into her skin, darkening it and bringing out freckles.

One day on the boat she began to hum a little tune to keep herself company and had the sudden realization that she would no longer be able to play the guitar. She looked down at her mangled hand in her lap as a wistful sadness sunk in, settled deep into her bones, a dull, persistent ache. _Maybe I could learn to play left-handed?_ But it would never quite be the same. It would be starting over from nothing. In a strange way she welcomed the pain the loss brought her. Since that night on the beach she had mostly just felt numb, empty. She’d poured all of herself into barren soil, been soaked up, and had nothing to show for it. This sadness was at least something she could feel.

* * *

Occasionally she would see other small vessels on the water, but she gave them a wide berth and they did the same for her. One of the ships she passed by had two small children on it, who hopped up and down and waved furiously at her. She returned the wave with a half-hearted smile and thought of JJ. _How old is he now… maybe 13 months? Is he walking, has he said his first word?_ She blinked back tears and continued on, willing her little boat to move faster.

When she came to San Francisco she made sure she had a full stock of fuel and skirted around it as far as possible. She didn’t know how the city had fared since the outbreak and wasn’t interested in finding out. As she traveled by she saw a bridge in the distance, two huge spires covered in peeling red paint rising out of the sea to support it, but it had collapsed in the middle, whether from disrepair or deliberate destruction Ellie could not tell. She always marveled at such structures, like the skyscrapers in Seattle. _How many people does it take to construct something like that? How much planning, how much material, from how far away?_ The logistics of it seemed impossible to her.

She made it past San Francisco without incident, but a violent thunderstorm forced her ashore near a small town. She used the time to search for supplies and encountered a small group of infected inside a barricaded convenience store. It was the first combat she had seen since Santa Barbara, and she dispatched them all quickly, efficiently. Killing infected came so easily to her now, just part of her nature. It was necessary to survive, and so she did it.

She still thought sometimes about what Sam had said to her all those years ago, just before his death. _What if the people are still inside? What if they're trapped in there without any control of their body?_ She’d quickly reassured him that wasn’t the case, tried to comfort him. But what did she know? A horrifying fate, but one she would be spared from, at least. Unless the infection within her someday decided to stop playing nice, mutated ever so slightly and wrested the controls of her body from her hands.

Ellie rode out the storm among the corpses, scribbling lines of poetry and sketching the shapes the lightning threw on the wall in her journal to pass the time, then continued on.

* * *

After a couple weeks of travel, Crescent City finally appeared on the horizon. The first thing that came into view was a small harbor, a surprising number of vessels moored there. Ellie beached her boat just south of the town, unwilling to just float into the middle of so many unfamiliar people. It was a sunny, cloudless day, the early afternoon sun beating down. She slung her well-worn backpack over her shoulder and started up the highway, then stopped suddenly. _You’ve gotten careless, Ellie. Gonna get yourself killed._ She held her left hand up in front of her and inspected it, the bite mark from the clicker in Santa Barbara still plain to see. She tried to ignore the ugly scabbing and scar tissue on her little and ring fingers, suddenly terminated at the second knuckle.

She returned to the boat and briefly considered her options. No acid, no friendly tattoo artists nearby that she was aware of. She could start a fire, burn the bitten area the old fashioned way, but it would take time to gather kindling and wood. Better to just get it over with. She pulled a cloth strip and alcohol out of her bag, and her knife out of her back pocket. Gritting her teeth, she drew the knife deeply along the arc of the half-healed bite mark. Sharp pain radiated up her arm, and blood spilled into the sand beneath her. She worked quickly, cutting, disinfecting, and tightly bandaging the wound. Once finished, she wiped the blade of the knife on her jeans, let out a heavy sigh, and closed her eyes and sat for a moment, trying to let the tension release from her body, the adrenaline subside.

Calmed, she gathered her things and headed back to the highway, and civilization, such as it was. The walls around the city were huge, even bigger than Jackson’s, plentiful material supplied for the barrier by the nearby redwood forests. She approached the gate and was greeted by a man in an exterior guard post. He was of average height, very blonde and very tan, blue eyes, middle aged. Attractive, she supposed, as far as men went. He greeted her good naturedly, rifle near at hand.

“Hello, there. Welcome to Crescent City. What’s your business?” asked the man, flipping opening a logbook.

“Just passing through. Need to trade for supplies.” He nodded and scribbled in his book.

“Alright. Name?”

She saw no reason to lie. “Ellie Williams.”

“My name’s Dan, by the way. You’re alone, I take it?”

“Yes.”

“Not bitten, I hope?” He smiled disarmingly.

“No.”  
“Sorry, but I’m required to inspect your arms, shoulders, and neck area for bites.”

“That’s fine.”

He exited the guard post and approached her as she shrugged her pack off her shoulders. Ellie noted the handgun at his hip, the knife strapped to one boot. Her fingers twitched, inches from her own knife and the revolver in her waistband. The man circled around her, giving directions, and she pulled her hair and the sleeves of her t-shirt aside as he asked. He stopped in front of her.

“Hold out your arms, please.”

She complied with a sigh.

“Almost done,” he said, apologetically. “Afraid I gotta ask to see what’s under that bandage on your hand, then we’ll be all good here.”

She unwrapped the bandage, wincing as it pulled away from the still fresh wound.

“Damn. How’d you get that?” he asked, grimacing sympathetically.

“I was searching through an abandoned car back that way, cut it on a rusted out bit of metal.”

“Hmm.” He glanced up, making eye contact for the first time. Presumably searching for the telltale signs of infection – dilated pupils, shortness of breath, rapid blinking, frequent swallowing from salivary glands kicked into overdrive. She impassively held his gaze for what felt like a very long time, outwardly as calm as she could manage, but inside drawn taut, ready to fight or run. At last he made his decision. “Okay, you’re good to go. Sorry for the trouble - you know how it is.”

“Yep. No problem.”

She exhaled, gave him a humorless smile and wound the bandage back around her hand, then grabbed her bag. He whistled and gave a hand signal to the guard on the wall. The heavy gate swung open, surprisingly quiet, and she headed inside.

* * *

Crescent City seemed nice enough, reminded Ellie of Jackson. Fishing was clearly a vital industry here, boats moving in and out of the harbor, fishermen and traders haggling on the docks over fresh catches. She passed a playground with newly made wooden equipment, children climbing all over it, yelling and screaming. She noticed a farrier, a cannery, restaurants, a ‘massage parlor’, plentiful foot and horse traffic through the streets, every sign of a place doing well for itself. She stopped a passerby, a red headed girl about her age, to ask for directions, and finally made it to her destination, the gunsmith.

Ellie inquired with the man at the counter about a trade and was asked to wait outside for a while as they finished work on an urgent job. There was a small covered porch outside with rocking chairs, one of which she settled into. She sat in the shade, watched as the people of the town strolled by, went about their daily lives, but found herself uneasy. It had been a long time since she was around so many people who were not trying to kill her. She took the canteen out of her pack and sipped at it, and eventually relaxed, listening to the constant white noise of the town. The ocean breeze blew in the smell of fish, and salt, and the tantalizing smell of something being cooked on a grill.

After an hour or so, a woman came and introduced herself as the owner of the store and led Ellie inside. It was warm inside, hot even, and smelled of oil and gunpowder. The woman was tall, older, shoulder length black hair starting to streak with gray pulled back into a ponytail. She carried herself confidently. She reminded Ellie of Tess. The woman planted her hands on the counter and leaned over.

“Name’s Claire,” she offered. Her voice had the rough edge of a longtime smoker.

“I’m Ellie.”

“So, Ellie. What’re you in the market for?”

Ellie licked her lips. “I need a horse, and tack. A couple weeks’ worth of rations, canned or dried. A few changes of cold weather clothing and a heavy blanket. A pair of boots, size 8, and socks. And a lighter.”

“Mmmkay. And for trade for all that?”

This was why Ellie had come to the gunsmith to deal, and not the stables. The most valuable things she owned were weapons. “In return,” she began, dropping her backpack to the floor in front of the counter, “I’ve got a small boat stashed outside town, with an 8 horsepower outboard motor and half a tank of gas.” She unzipped the outer compartment of her pack and pulled out a beat up blue plastic lunchbox, the Angel Knives decal long worn off. “Some small tools and parts in good condition, including a complete set of Allen wrenches and a sight set for a rifle.” She snapped the box open for inspection. Next she unbelted the holster around her waist and set it on the counter, then dropped the magazine out of the pistol, cleared the chamber, and set it down as well. “Good condition .45 caliber handgun, modified extended mag, with a custom grip and barrel stabilizer, plus the holster for it.”

Ellie paused for a moment to let the woman examine her offerings. The tools she rifled through quickly, nodding, then she picked up the gun, turning it over in her hands. She picked up the magazine from the counter and looked it over as well. “Nice workmanship here. Who did the modifications?”

  
“I did.”

“Ah. Interesting,” she said, returning her gaze to Ellie, reappraising. “Where’d you learn how to do all that?”

“My uh… Uncle Tommy,” Ellie replied, softly. Her last memory of the man was not a pleasant one. The trip to Seattle had taken a toll on all of them, but him perhaps most of all. She wondered if he was still in Jackson, what she would say to him. “He’s really good with mechanical stuff. I think he had a thing for cars, back before the outbreak.”

The woman nodded in acknowledgement but did not inquire further. “Well. You’ve got some value here, but-“

“I got one more thing,” Ellie interrupted. She felt vaguely uncomfortable, acting the salesman. Jesse had always been the negotiator of their little group, with his easy, friendly manner and winning smile. Another death Ellie carried on her conscience, even though she knew he would hate her for it. She bent down and unclipped the submachine gun from the carabiner holding it to her backpack, then cleared it in the same manner as the handgun and set it on the counter. “9 millimeter SMG, real deal mil spec shit. Select fire for full auto, 20 round mag, folding iron sights, collapsible stock, and a machined aluminum silencer,” she rattled off. She’d known the automatic weapon would be the key to any deal she could make, and had spent time cleaning, oiling and polishing scratches off it before coming into town.

Her potential trading partner showed no outward change in demeanor, but Ellie thought she saw her eyes sharpen, light up a bit. The gunsmith looked inside the empty chamber, then thumbed the bolt release and shouldered the gun, looking down the sights. She flicked the safety off and pulled the trigger, letting the hammer drop forward with a metallic click. “A beautiful piece of hardware,” she said, gently putting the gun back on the counter. “I won’t ask where you got it.” She crossed her arms and appeared to consider for a moment. “I’m willing to do the deal, but I don’t have everything you ask for on hand. I’ll have to bring in a third party. The farrier owes me one, so I’ll go hunt him down. In the meantime, you fetch your boat and bring it into the harbor. Dock her in number 22 and wait for me there.” She stuck her hand out. “Deal?”

Relief flooded into Ellie. She grasped the offered hand firmly and shook. “Deal.”

* * *

A few hours later, Ellie was the proud new owner of a four year old gray gelding named Cash, saddlebags stuffed with provisions and a bedroll tied behind the saddle. It was late in the afternoon now, the sun starting its descent from the sky. Claire offered her a meal and a place to stay for the night.

“You do this for all your customers?” Ellie asked.

“Hah. No. You just, uh… you remind me of my daughter.”

“Oh. Is she…”  
“She’s fine. She’s out on a fishing boat, right now.” the older woman sighed. “We don’t get along real well even when she’s not.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Look, I really appreciate the offer, but I gotta keep moving.”

“I understand. Where you headed?”

“Northeast,” said Ellie, vaguely, reflexively untrusting. It came out shorter, harsher than she had intended. “Home,” she added.

Claire nodded, looking off into the distance. “A good place to be. Well. Best of luck to you, Ellie. I threw in a little something extra for you, it’s in the right saddlebag, wrapped in brown paper. You looked like you needed a damn drink.”

* * *

Ellie rode hard away from the city. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and all those people as possible, and also to put her new mount through his paces. Her apprenticeship rotation as a stablehand in Jackson had taught her enough to see that the horse was in good physical condition, but the rest was uncertain until she was able to ride him herself. She was happy to find that he was swift, surefooted, and well trained.

Dusk had fallen by the time she found a place to camp for the night, in a heavily wooded area beside a stream. She tied Cash to a tree near the water, giving him enough rope to graze. She took a jar of strawberry preserves, a chunk of fresh bread, and the brown paper package from Claire out of her bag, then spread her own bedroll under another tree and sat down heavily, sighing. She pulled the revolver out of her waistband and set it close at hand, then kicked off her boots and leaned back into the tree. Summer was at its end, and there was a chill in the air at night. She pulled her blanket up around her waist and gazed up at the sky. She could only see a small section of it through the trees, but it was a clear night, stars shining brightly.

She ate her meal, tearing off chunks of the slightly stale bread and dunking them in the preserves. The strawberries were sweet and tangy, seemingly very fresh. Strawberries had been Dina’s favorite. Ellie wondered if Dina was looking up at the same clear sky somewhere. If she ever thought of Ellie fondly, after all that had happened. If she thought of her at all. If she’d moved on to someone new.

She hefted the gift from Claire, then tore the paper from it, revealing an unlabeled mason jar full of a clear liquid. She unscrewed the top and took a deep whiff of the contents, then recoiled, blinking rapidly. _Damn. Strong stuff._ She cautiously took a sip and had to stifle a cough. It was strong, but clean, no unpleasant aftertaste of sulfur or iron. An immediate, pleasant warmth spread through her.

A bit of fatherly advice Joel had given her came back to her. _“Be careful with that stuff, Ellie. It’ll turn you blind,”_ he’d told her at 16. She smiled sadly at the memory, how she’d immediately called bullshit, and took another swig from the jar. She felt almost content for a while, drinking and eating her fill and listening to the babble of the creek, the wind blowing through the leaves, crickets chirping.

She finished her bread and closed the jar of preserves, setting it aside, then sucked the sticky-sweet remnants off her fingers. The taste of skin and strawberry together brought back another memory of Dina, and she felt a warm, dull ache start to pulse deep in her stomach, entirely different from the burn of the alcohol. _Dina smiling slyly, running her finger over Ellie’s bottom lip, eyes glittering darkly._ _Sweat-slick skin pressed together, breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Dina’s hand clenching into a fist in her hair, shuddering, softly whispering Ellie’s name._

Presently she bit her lip, felt her pulse quicken slightly, her fingers running idly back and forth across her thigh. She was just so, intensely, lonely. She missed so badly having someone to fall asleep and wake up next to, someone to hold close for warmth, for comfort, for pleasure.

* * *

Some time later, Ellie stood on shaky legs to go relieve herself, and the world tilted violently under her feet, a dizzying rush in her head as the moonshine ambushed her. _Fuck. I am_ trashed. She had to laugh at herself. All her finely honed survival instincts, her sense of caution, thrown to the wind without a thought. _I’m easy pickings like this._ At least she had opted against a campfire. She stumbled off to do her business, fighting to keep her balance every step of the way, then returned to her bedroll and laid down.

Sleep did not come easily, despite the long day she’d had. The world spun around her, and she felt like she had to hold onto the ground to stay in place. She turned her thoughts to the journey still ahead of her. She was grateful to have a destination, something to look forward to, but also terrified. Dina, JJ, and Jackson were a guiding light, drawing her like a moth to a flame. She only hoped it would not destroy her when she reached it.


	3. Chapter 3

A confused mixture of anger, shame, and elation twisted and tangled within Ellie as she stormed out of the church-turned-dancehall into the cold winter night. The buzz in her head from the moonshine she’d been sipping only made things worse, intensified the uncomfortable feelings. As she turned up the street goosebumps rippled across her skin, and she realized she’d left her jacket behind in her rush to leave. Crossing her arms tightly in front of her to conserve warmth, her breath fogging around her, she stubbornly continued onwards.

The hurt that had been so plain on Joel’s face bothered her, stuck with her even as the pleasure of telling him off quickly evaporated. But didn’t he deserve it, and worse? Wasn’t she justified? She knew she was, but still the guilt gnawed at her. She’d told him in no uncertain terms that they were done, but still he tried to insert himself into her life in little ways, to protect her from things she could easily handle on her own. She wasn’t a 14 year old little girl anymore. That kiss with Dina was proof enough of that.

She let herself relive the moment again, the uncertainty and apprehension at first, and then the glorious rush as she realized what was happening. The warm, soft feeling of Dina’s lips, her mouth parting slightly, tongue flickering out, hand tightening on her hip and pulling her closer. The room had seemed to spin, everything fading out but the lights and the two of them. A moment she’d dreamt of, unexpectedly materialized. And then it was gone, snatched away by a bitter old man, Joel’s interference, her own quick temper. 

She was uncomfortably alone with her thoughts for a while, the wet crunch of her boots in the snow and the distant barking of dogs her only company. She wound through streets banked with snow, sticking to the main routes that had been cleared by the draft horse-driven snow plows. Eventually time and the icy cold cleared the fog of intoxication from her mind. Suddenly a voice rang out.

“Ellie! Hey, wait up!” 

Ellie turned to see Dina hurrying towards her, something bundled underneath her arm. She stopped and half turned, watching the other woman approach. Dina was slightly flushed by the time she caught up, but flashed a wide smile and held up the bundle she’d been carrying – Ellie’s coat.

“You forgot something.”

Ellie couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed. _Play it cool._ “I didn’t forget it. I just, uhm… tactically abandoned it.”

Dina laughed in her face. “Oh, so you won’t be needing it, then?”

Ellie took a moment to evaluate just how cold she was, teeth nearly chattering, then shivered. “Give it.” She grabbed the offered jacket and quickly pulled it on, almost immediately feeling better as it enveloped her, the warmth from the church still lingering within it. “Thanks.”

“Sooooo. Where you headed?”

“Ah…” Ellie considered the question. She’d just been taking streets at random, twisting and turning. Her home was in the opposite general direction. “Nowhere, really? Just going for a walk.”

“Well,” Said Dina, sniffling from the cold. “Mind if I join you?”

“Sure.” 

They set off again down the street, shoulder to shoulder. Ellie noticed that they were nearing the edge of the settlement, the massive fence looming in front of them, the floodlights buzzing above. She’d traveled quite a ways by herself, and a thought occurred to her. “Hey, Dina? How’d you find me?”

Dina grinned. “I, uh, tracked you.” She said, gesturing at the footprints in the snow.

“What?” Ellie muttered incredulously. “You know my boot print?”

“I know a lot of things about you, Ellie.”

Ellie felt a flutter in her chest. She searched for some witty response but could find no words. The silence stretched between them as they turned away from the fence line and walked on, their breath misting and mingling in front of them. A light snow had begun to fall, big, wet flakes drifting down around them. Ellie stole a glance sideways and noticed the snow catching in Dina’s dark hair, glistening in the pale light.

She wanted to grab Dina by the shoulders, kiss her again right then and there, but doubt crept up on her. Had she just been trying to make Jesse jealous? Making a scene for the people so rudely staring at them? Was this all just some cruel joke the universe was playing on her? Ellie had had a crush on Dina for what must have been years now, but if there had been any signs of reciprocation before this night they’d flown over her head. She had to say something, had to know. She'd almost worked up the courage to speak when Dina broke the silence first.

“So, I gotta ask. What the hell is the deal with you and Joel?”

Ellie’s heart sunk, and she felt a stab of resentment at him for intruding upon them, even without being there. “There is no deal.” she said, flatly.

“C’mon, Ellie, don’t bullshit me. I was here when you guys got here. You were inseparable. Now you don’t talk, don’t eat together… you lost your shit on him tonight in front of everyone. I thought for a while it was just some normal family disagreement, but it’s been… a long fuckin’ time, now. It’s obvious that it’s bothering you.”

“I grew up,” Ellie grated out. “I don’t need him looking over my shoulder all the time.”

Dina sighed. “Alright, well. If you don’t wanna talk about it...”

Ellie definitely did not want to talk about it, but she did want to talk to Dina. She clenched her fist and tried to put it into words for the first time. “Joel…” she began, just the name leaving an unpleasant taste in her mouth. “He… took something from me. Something I can never get back.”

Dina accepted this silently, a troubled look passing across her face. After a short time, she stopped moving forward, took Ellie’s hand, clasping it between both of hers. Softly, she said “Ellie… whatever happened between you two, I know he wouldn’t hurt you intentionally. The old man loves you. He really does.” 

_Loves you._ Ellie knew it was true. All too true, she thought bitterly. She had loved him too, once.

“Have you talked about it? Given him a chance to apologize?”

Ellie considered it. _Apologize? Would he?_ How would she feel if he did? Would it make her feel better, to hear him say that he should have left her there on that table? Taken his payment and left her alone, like everyone else had? Ellie frowned and said nothing, but looked up and met Dina’s eyes, deep brown, pupils dilated in the darkness.

“I know it’s really not your thing, but… talking it out can help.”

Ellie looked down at Dina’s hands over her own, then away. A contemplative melancholy settled over her. “I’ll think about it.”

Dina seemed to accept that as her answer. She removed her hands from Ellie’s and resumed on their path, pushing a few stray strands of hair back behind her ear with one hand. She huffed. “Well, shit. Sorry for being such a downer.”

Ellie grinned. “You’re never a downer, Dina.” The other woman glanced over and returned her smile.

“Excited for patrol tomorrow?” Dina asked.

“Oh, of course. Should be loads of fun.” Ellie replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Hey, maybe they’ll assign you to the creek trail with me, since Eugene is gone and Jesse and I are, let’s say… incompatible for now.”

“Mmm. Okay, you’ve convinced me. I can’t wait.” Ellie said, keeping the same tone of voice but without feeling a trace of actual sarcasm this time. They walked a bit longer and fell into their familiar, casual routine, keeping up the small talk and friendly banter. Somewhere along the way the snow had stopped and the bright crescent moon was peeking out from behind the clouds. Eventually they reached the small house Dina occupied and slowed to a halt.

“Well. This is my stop,” said Dina. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. Goodnight, Ellie.” She smiled and gave a quick wave as she turned away, headed towards her door.

_Last chance. Fucking SAY SOMETHING._ “…’Night, Dina,” she managed, as her friend disappeared inside. _What the fuck. IDIOT._ Ellie let out a frustrated groan, running a hand through her hair. She forced her feet back into motion, trudging away from Dina’s place, cursing herself as she went. _You think you feel bad? Look at it from her point of view._

Dina had seemingly put herself out there, made the first move. And Ellie had rushed off without so much as a goodbye. Dina had come after her, and then they’d almost acted like nothing at all had happened. _I’ll apologize to her tomorrow, first thing. We’ll talk, seriously. I will NOT fucking blow this chance, if it’s real._ Determined, Ellie ran through the possibilities in her head, rehearsing what she would say, how she would say it, but doubt plagued her still. She’d never been good at forthright conversation about emotional matters, and had only gotten worse with age, more self-conscious. She tended to deflect with jokes, hated making herself vulnerable. But, she reassured herself, some things were worth it, and this was one of those things.

Lost in thought, Ellie had taken a route towards her home that she normally avoided. The warm sound of a guitar, playing a simple looping chord progression pulled her out of her musings and back into the cold present. It was late now, but the gentle music and light still spilled from his porch, holding back the night. Apprehensive, Ellie continued forward until she stood at the edge of the light and stopped, still to the side and out of sight. 

A sudden urge to turn back, cut through a side street and take another way home rose in her, but she fought it back. She pressed her lips together, toe tapping furiously inside her boot. Uncertainty gripped her as she thought back on the events of the night, her conversation with Dina. _How can I ever get past this? What do I even want from him? Anything?_ She knew only that she didn’t want to hurt him anymore. The look on his face earlier and his slouched posture as he had walked away bothered her, still vivid in her mind. 

It had been only an instant, but she felt like she’d been standing there for an eternity, warring with herself, trying to come to some grand conclusion. In the end she knew this was not a fight she could win, not an issue she could resolve alone. She took a deep breath and stilled herself, stopping the nervous tics, slowing her racing mind. _Just talk. You have to start somewhere. Just… be civil. You can manage that much, at least._ Finally, Ellie put one foot in front of the other, stepping forward out of the night and coming face to face with Joel. 


	4. Chapter 4

Ellie woke slowly with the dawn, cold and alone. There was fresh morning dew on the grass all around, the skies a clear, pastel blue. The chill of the night had not yet fully abated.

She sat up with a long sigh. Her mouth was dry, head aching. She was not looking forward in the least to sitting a horse all day. She grabbed her canteen and gulped down all of the lukewarm water in it quickly, then refilled it from the stream. She packed her things, then heaved the saddlebags and saddle back into place across her new horse’s back and fastened them down.

“You ready to go, Cash?”

Her companion, rudely, did not answer.

“Man of few words, huh.”

She pulled out her well-worn map and unfolded it, tracing her planned route out again. She would head northeast into Oregon, past Crater Lake, to the town of Bend. Then turn east, sticking to forested areas, skirting around the edge of the great basin desert, until she hit Snake River. She would follow the winding course of the river for a long ways, through the fertile valleys of Idaho, until finally parting with it near the Wyoming border and arriving in Jackson.

She mounted up, groaning at the churning in her stomach, and set out once again.

* * *

The days blended into one another, passed mostly without incident. She rose with the dawn and stopped only with the dusk. The weather turned as she traveled, getting colder by the day. The leaves started to color, slowly at first, then seemingly all at once, to vivid, bloody reds, vibrant oranges, pale yellows, dying gracefully.

One evening she was washing the sweat and grime of the day’s travel from her face in a creek when she caught sight of her reflection. Her hair had gotten quite long, longer than she could ever remember it being, past her shoulders to the middle of her back. She’d toyed with the idea of growing it out before, but never actually gone through with it. She glances over at her equine companion, who’s lapping up water noisily. “What do you think, boy?”

She combs her hair with her hand, twirls it in her fingers. It’s pretty enough, naturally straight and soft, but it seems a frivolous luxury to her, at best. At worst, just something else for an attacker to grab onto. She sighs. “Yeah, you’re right.” She bunches it up around the nape of her neck and saws it off with her switchblade, lets it fall into the water and float away on the current.

She stands and moves away from the water, then begins to set up camp. She’s in a remote enough area that she decides to risk a fire for the night. She checks her progress by the flickering light of the fire, trying to determine how far she still has to go. According to her map, she’s in Malheur National Forest now, in eastern Oregon. She’s making good time, chewing up the miles with every hour of daylight she has, but it’s still frustratingly slow. The sense of urgency, the pull she feels only grows the closer she gets to Jackson. Like a metal filing approaching a magnet, a meteorite, falling into a gravity well.

* * *

Ellie’s talking to her horse again, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist, when it strikes her just how _bored_ she is. She hasn’t seen another human in weeks. She’d left the farmhouse quickly, of one mind, not bringing her walkman, or anything to read. She’d had more immediate concerns in Crescent City. She stays in constant motion, drawn ever onward, but time seems to slow to a crawl. She thinks she might go insane if she doesn’t find some way to entertain herself. _Massaging the saddle sores on your ass doesn’t count as a hobby._

When next she comes to a small town, somewhere in western Idaho, she takes the opportunity to search for a library. She finds it a short distance off her path, a single story building with high ceilings and a giant fading mural of children playing on the side of it. She breaks the still-intact glass of the front door and enters. It’s small but in relatively good condition, roof and windows all still intact, no spores, no unpleasant smell of mold or rotting wood. Light spills in from the skylights, but she still has to turn on her flashlight to see in the densely packed stacks.

She wanders the shelves, browsing, trailing her fingers along the dusty spines of the books. She’s satisfied with the haul she comes away with: a nonfiction book about the Soviet space program and the first cosmonaut; a couple of pulpy westerns; a heavy tome about whalers in the 19th century that she’d seen sitting on Joel’s shelves years ago; an ‘NY Times Bestselling’ mystery novel; and even a corny romance paperback. Walking back towards the building’s entrance, a sign for Comics/Graphic Novels/Manga catches her eye and she wanders over.

She scans the shelf carefully, from top to bottom, but only finds things she’s already read or has no interest in. Slightly disappointed but unsurprised, she turns to leave, and there, sitting on a nearby reshelving cart, is _Changed by the Titans #32_ , still in the plastic wrapper.

“Oh, fuck yeah!”

She snatches up the comic, hardly believing her eyes. She’s been looking for this one for a while - it’s the last issue ever published, just before outbreak day. _Of all the places to find it…_ She slides it carefully into her backpack and leaves, her steps a little lighter.

She stops early that day, for the first time since she set out from California, taking shelter in an abandoned rural home near the river - large, brick, two stories and an attached garage. She deposits Cash in the garage. Wanting to share her good fortune, she feeds him some red crabapples she’d found along her way and massages his back for a while.

Excitement building, but still wary, she enters the house and checks it top to bottom for any sign of infected or other danger. Finding none, she returns to the large, open living room on the first floor and settles into a massive leather recliner. It’s comfortable, cool against her skin, and she sinks into it with a satisfied sigh. She grabs her canteen from her bag, and for dinner a small jar of peanuts, then withdraws her prized new comic. She tears the clear plastic wrap off and takes a closer look at the cover, switching her flashlight on for better light.

The cover shows the heroine of the story, battered and bruised but still defiant, standing amidst the flaming wreckage of a crashed starship. Protected from weathering by the plastic wrap, the colors are all still bright and vivid, the pages clean. She pulls the lever on the side of the recliner and kicks back, spreading the comic open in her lap. She eagerly begins to read, occasionally cracking peanuts open and tossing them into her mouth, letting the shells fall to the floor.

When last we left our heroes, they were in dire straits, locked in a desperate struggle against a rogue AI to determine the fate of the star system. The battle ebbs and flows, until finally the enemy seems to gain the upper hand and it appears all is lost. The heroine has one last clever trick up her sleeve, however, and with the help of her comrades it’s enough - the tide is turned, the battle won. But! During the victory celebration, it’s revealed that the villain was only a catspaw, a tool being used by a greater threat. The crew must set out again on a new, even more dangerous adventure.

Ellie devours the story quickly, eager to see what happens next, how the tale concludes. When she’s done, she immediately flips back to the first page and starts again, slower this time, taking in all the little details and subtleties she missed the first time. After finishing a second time, reading deep into the night, she sets it aside and sighs, a satisfied smile on her face.

It’s a good ending, one she’s waited a long time to see. It’s a pity it’ll never be continued, but that’s just the way of these remnants of the old world. Ellie idly wonders if she could get good enough, draw her own comics one day. She sleeps, and dreams of other worlds, far away.

* * *

Ellie was close, so fucking close, when the bear trap hidden under fallen leaves snapped shut around Cash’s leg, sending him screaming to the ground, her along with him. She’d finally split away from Snake River, her constant guide for the past several weeks, and turned up what her map called Kelly Canyon. She was on a trail near an old ski resort, steep wooded hills to both sides of her, when the hunters struck.

She barely managed to avoid being trapped underneath the horse as he fell, then grabbed her bundled long guns from where they were slung behind the saddle and rolled into the nearby brush. She heard the loud report of a rifle, heard a bullet tear through the foliage and ricochet off a nearby tree. She scrambled away as quickly as she could, twisting her ankle in the process, weaving through the trees uphill and at an angle to the trail.

_Shit shit shit! I am not fucking dying here!_ She was fairly certain she’d seen the bark flying from a tree on this side of the trail, indicating that the shot came from the other side, but not 100% sure. She could be heading right towards the shooter. She kept low and hobbled up the hill, eyes darting about, searching for her attacker.

Once she’d put some distance between her and the trail she slowed and scanned the terrain, stealing glances back at where the ambush had occurred. Cash was still screaming, trying over and over to stand on a leg that would never work again, blood pooling beneath him. She tried to filter out the horrible noise and listen for any sign of her ambushers. No further gunshots had come after the first miss.

She found a likely spot and dropped her backpack and the bundled guns she’d almost been killed recovering. Still panting heavily from her flight, she pulled out the bolt-action rifle and slung the shotgun over her shoulder. The spot she’d chosen was by a tree with a nearly clear sight line back to where the trap had sprung. She clambered up onto the first branch of the tree to get a better view, leaning out along it to steady herself. She worked the bolt action on her rifle, slamming a bullet into the chamber, then waited.

Three hunters came into view on the trail, talking and gesticulating enthusiastically. She was too far away to catch their words, but the gestures were mostly in the direction she’d fled. One of them, a tall, skinny man, carried a rifle. Another man had a machete, but she couldn’t tell how the third, a woman, was armed. They all wore camouflage from head to toe.

Ellie tried to calm her breathing, steady her aim. The man with the machete brought it down once, twice, again, and her horse finally went silent. The other two continued to argue as Ellie looked down her sights. She waited for her target to be still, exhaled fully, then squeezed the trigger.

Her shot caught the man with the rifle in the neck and he dropped to his knees, hands at his throat trying and failing to keep the blood from gushing out. The man with the machete stared in shock for a moment, then took off running up the trail. The woman’s reaction was faster, diving behind tree cover and disappearing from sight, but moving in Ellie’s direction. Ellie chambered another round as quickly as she could, but had no target visible by the time she was ready to fire.

She dropped down from her perch, took cover behind the tree, and waited silently for any sign of the female hunter coming towards her. The ground was covered in fallen leaves, making it nearly impossible to move silently. After a minute that felt like an hour, she heard the sound she was waiting for. She judged it to be downhill, to her left, then picked up her backpack and heaved it down the hill to the right. It noisily hit the ground, scattering leaves about, and she pivoted out of cover, bringing her rifle up. She spotted sudden movement - a crouched figure, hard to see because of the camouflage clothing she was wearing. _Not hard enough._

The shot took the hunter squarely in the chest and she fell backward, letting out a surprised cry, then rolling down the hill lifelessly. Ellie collected her backpack and quickly descended the ridge back down to the trail. The sight of Cash turned her stomach, but she could spare him no attention.

These people were set up only a short distance from Jackson, on a likely well traveled route, but outside of patrol range. How many of those coming or going from her former home had they preyed upon?

“Motherfuckers.”

Ellie felt a cold, creeping anger, but refused it any influence. _No…_ _think this through. Only what’s necessary. Options?_ She considered just running away, or hiding, but she was in unfamiliar territory, and had no idea how many bandits there were or how they were equipped, if they had horses or dogs. Without a horse she may not be able to move fast enough to escape. _I won’t let them hunt me. A fight, then._

“ _Surprise is the best weapon we’ve got, but we only get to fire it once. Hit hard, hit fast. Make it count.”_ Joel’s words, from years ago, echoed in her mind. She grabbed the dead ambusher’s rifle in her free hand, then turned up the trail and sprinted in the direction the man with the machete had gone.

* * *

“Don’t-”

The shotgun roared in Ellie’s hands, turning the hunter’s head into bloody chunks splattered across the room. _Two shells left._ She pumped the action and quickly took cover behind the nearby bed and took stock. She was on the second floor loft of a small cabin the hunters appeared to use as their base. She peeked out the window in front of her that faced back towards the trail, and spotted two horses galloping for the cabin, three camouflage-clad men atop them, drawn by all the gunfire outside.

She grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the top of the nearby nightstand, then set her shotgun down and ripped a wide strip of sheet from the bed. She soaked the sheet in whiskey, then stuffed it down the throat of the bottle and lit it with her lighter. When she heard the door below crash open she stood and kicked out the window in front of her, boot shattering through glass and wood alike. More shouts from below, then the pounding of feet on the stairs. Ellie paused, waiting for the right moment, then hurled the molotov cocktail at the wall above the stairs. She’d timed it well and it burst, raining fire on the first man rushing up the stairs.

She hurtled out the window onto the sloped roof overhanging the front porch of the cabin, awkwardly sliding to the edge, then swung herself down. She pressed herself against the wooden siding by the front door and waited. The man that burst through the door had enough time to look surprised before he was blown off his feet by a shotgun blast, chest a bloody ruin. _One shell left._ The last hunter inside let out a cry and fired wildly out the door. Ellie shuffled back a few steps to the open window there and fired her last shell, clipping the hunter in the hip and sending him to the floor with a scream. Letting the empty shotgun fall from her hands and hit the wooden deck with a thud, she vaulted through the window, then smoothly drew the revolver from her waistband and shot the man in the head as he tried to stand. She crossed the room, low and quick, and glanced up the stairwell. The man she’d hit with the molotov was still there, ablaze, struggling weakly. She let him burn.

She moved to the back of the cabin, counting in her head. _Couch,recliner, three sleeping bags downstairs, another couch and a bed upstairs. Two to the bed makes eight. Two dead on the trail, two in front of the house with rifle fire, one upstairs with the shotgun, then the three late arrivals._ _All accounted for?_ She kicked open the back door and checked the rear deck, finding it empty, then stalked around to the front of the cabin.

Smoke was beginning to roll out of the upstairs windows as the flames from her molotov cocktail caught and spread. The hunters’ horses were nowhere to be seen, spooked by the gunfire and the smell of smoke. Breathing heavily, trying to watch all around her at once, Ellie walked to the front porch to retrieve her shotgun, then hurriedly returned to the trail to salvage what she could from her saddlebags. Encountering no further resistance, she allowed herself to relax slightly.

As the rush of combat faded, she felt the pain in her twisted ankle flare up. The way she’d exerted it immediately after the injury was doing her no favors now, but it had kept her alive. She checked herself over for other injuries and was surprised to find nothing but light scrapes and bruises. Lucky as hell for a fight with a whole hunter camp.

After reaching her fallen horse, she rifled through the saddlebags and her backpack, taking only what was immediately needed, discarding everything else to reduce the weight she would have to carry. She was only a few days from Jackson, she should be able to travel light. She worked hastily; even though the hunter camp was clear, the sound of gunfire sometimes attracted nearby infected, and the burning cabin would soon be a smoke signal visible to anyone for miles. She thanked Cash, patted his side one last time, then stood, wincing.

Setting off again, she resolves to stay off well traveled roads for the remainder of her journey. Jackson is within reach, now, and she is hell-bent on making it there. _Just try and stop me._ Grimly determined, she puts the late afternoon sun at her back and limps onwards.


	5. Chapter 5

The nervous anticipation and dread grew in Ellie with every step she took. It was a cool, cloudy morning, almost unnaturally still. The trees around her were all bare, asleep for the winter, the grass dying or dead. She made her way up the old, familiar hunting trail behind the farm, trying to prepare herself, brace herself for the blow she knew was coming. But a traitorous, false hope also still lurked within her, no matter how she tried to crush it.

At long last she broke through into the clearing, walked up to the gate into the yard and surveyed the area. The livestock were gone. There were no chickens softly clucking in their coop, no sheep grazing, no lambs at play, bleating. One of the barn doors lay on the ground, left open and slammed again and again by the wind until its hinges gave out. The farmhouse looked as empty as the day she first saw it. Some of the windows were open, curtains blowing with the breeze. They’d left this place in a hurry. She knows what she’ll find inside, but she has to see it for herself, face what she’s done. There’s an intense, seemingly physical ache in her chest, a feeling of utter desolation.

Being here again is nearly overwhelming. There’s so much sadness, so much joy everywhere she looks, some of her happiest and darkest days spent here. She unlatches the gate, pushes it open, and steps through into what remains of her old life.

* * *

Peeling herself off of the cold concrete floor of the theater basement is one of the hardest things Ellie has ever done. If she were alone, she thinks, she might never move again. Just lie there and rest, be still until the world recedes, leaves her behind. But she’s not alone, and the blood is pooling beneath Dina at an alarming rate.

She drags herself over, broken arm limp at her side, and pulls her partner into a sitting position with her. She snaps the point of the arrow off, then yanks it out as smoothly as she can. The pain brings Dina screaming back into consciousness, shocked that she’s still alive. She’s panicked at first, eyes wide, lashing out, still fighting. Ellie holds her close, ignores the stabbing pain of her injured arm being jolted around.

“Shhhh. Dina, it’s okay. Dina! Dina, it’s me. We’re okay… we’re okay.”

She relaxes after a moment, calmed by Ellie’s voice, and looks around the room, finding them alone. “How… why…”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, they’re gone. We need to get a bandage on you, stop the bleeding.”

Two working arms between them, they clumsily dress the arrow wound, then set Ellie’s broken bone. She nearly passes out as they pull the arm into traction, but once the splint is in place the throbbing agony subsides into almost tolerable discomfort. Battered and bloody, they make their way upstairs, weapons at the ready, but encounter no further threat.

Ellie nearly cries with relief when they find Tommy’s pulse, miraculously still alive. They treat his wounds as best they can, but he remains unconscious. Dina covers Jesse’s body with a canvas sheet, but neither of them can bear to sleep so close to him. They make Tommy as comfortable as possible, afraid to move him because of the head wound, then move deeper into the theater and collapse side by side in exhaustion.

Ellie leaves at first light the next morning. She’s in no condition for scavenging, but can’t bear to stay in Seattle any longer. There is a thick blanket of clouds overhead, but no rain, and the city is eerily quiet as she enters WLF-controlled territory. She takes extra care to move slowly, silently, but it seems she is totally alone, the wolves have vanished. She doesn’t know what has happened to them all, and doesn’t care.

She finds a jeep, keys in the overhead mirror, and even a couple cans of gasoline. Tommy is conscious by the time she returns, but delirious with pain, hallucinating. She and Dina load what remains of their supplies and Tommy into the vehicle, then return to the lobby of the theater. Dina says a few words over Jesse’s body, but they pass through Ellie unregistered, providing no comfort. They burn his body, turn the theater around him into a giant funeral pyre, then leave Seattle behind.

Ellie and Dina take turns driving, and they make steady progress along what remains of I-90. Dina has never driven before, so Ellie teaches her the basics. It might have been fun, in better times, but present circumstances render the experience dry, utilitarian. Occasionally they have to stop to clear the road of obstructions, shoving debris aside, towing it out of the way with their jeep, putting abandoned cars in neutral and rolling them off the road.

Hunting is difficult with their injuries, and the towns along the interstate are mostly picked clean of supplies already. What food they are able to find they stretch as far as possible. Ellie gives her share to Dina sometimes, taking care not to let the other woman know what she’s doing. She worries about her having to eat for two, not getting enough. The pregnancy sickness that debilitated Dina in Seattle mercifully subsides as they go, the color returning to her face, the nausea and dizziness fading.

Tommy comes around a few days into the journey, and Ellie has to explain what happened, how she’d failed. He takes it stoically, offers no comment. They are all nursing their own wounds, and they travel mostly in silence. For her part, Ellie is just numb at first, running on autopilot, going through the motions, because what else can she do? As the days go by and the shock wears off, she’s relieved that Dina and Tommy made it out alive, but she finds that all the hate, the guilt, is still inside her, simmering away in the back of her mind, suppressed but not forgotten.

They are extremely, uncharacteristically lucky, and manage to keep the jeep going almost the entire way back to Jackson before running out of gas with no way to refuel in sight. The last few days of the journey on foot are the hardest, Ellie and Dina struggling to support Tommy, who can barely walk. He rants about how it’s not over, they can heal up, go back and finish the job. Ellie knows, rationally, that it’s done, they can’t do this again, but the sentiment is disturbingly appealing to her. Dina just looks at him like he’s gone mad. In the end, they’re picked up by a patrol outside Jackson and brought back into town, much worse for wear.

* * *

Ellie tries to return to her old life, her old home, but everything has changed. Without the exhaustion and urgency of travel she has too much time alone with her thoughts. The world seems knocked askew, twisted at unnatural angles. Her skin crawls in the presence of most people. Nothing in the waking world feels as real as the nightmares that plague her, visions of slit throats and pulverized faces, shattered bones and blood everywhere, so much deep red blood she thinks she could drown in it. She wakes screaming, pulse pounding, covered in sweat and a metallic taste on her tongue. Dina has her own nightmares, and they quickly move in together, finding some small comfort in sleeping together.

Soon, Dina suggests they get some space, move out of Jackson. Ellie agrees, desperate for any kind of change. Dina already has a place in mind, a farmhouse a few hours’ ride to the south. They scout it out one humid, hot summer day, see what they’ll need to make it work. It will require quite a lot of effort that they can’t provide themselves - fencelaying, roofing, plumbing, transportation of the materials and their belongings from town.

Ellie is skeptical, but Dina lights up as they walk through the empty house together. She talks about decorations and storage space, points out which room would be their bedroom, which would be the baby’s playroom, even graciously assigns Ellie her own room to do whatever she wants with. She’s cheerful, and it’s almost like the old days, before Seattle. Her enthusiasm, her hope, is infectious, and Ellie wants desperately to make her happy again. While they’re inside, dark clouds roll in and a heavy, soaking rain starts to fall, punctuated by distant thunder. They sit on the porch a while, side by side, talking it over, and ultimately agree to make the move. Dina pulls Ellie close, tells her she loves her for the first time, and kisses her deeply.

Ellie expected it to take months to bargain with the craftsmen and traders in Jackson, to secure enough favors to call in and capital to bargain with. Neither she or Dina had much to offer - their homes were assigned to them based on their contributions of patrol work and seniority in the community, and they had little of value for trade. She spoke to the fencelayer first, tried to offer labor in return for the same, now that her arm was mostly healed. He wouldn’t hear of it - owed Joel, he said, and he’d be glad to help her with whatever she needed.

It was the same with everyone she spoke to. They told her of lives saved, furniture and instruments crafted, a helping hand given freely. Joel had endeared himself to a lot of people over the years, somehow. She hadn’t noticed, having cut him out of her life, been caught up so thoroughly in her own affairs. She felt dirty, calling in a dead man’s favors, but her trading partners invariably insisted.

So, a few long, uncomfortable weeks after returning to Jackson, she and Dina left again, to start a new life together. Maria met them at the gate, ensured them that they would always have a place in Jackson if they needed one. Ellie asked after Tommy, who was notably absent. Maria grimaced.

“Probably at the fucking bar. As usual, these days.”

“Oh. Well, tell him I said goodbye, please. And... thanks for everything.”

“I will. You girls take care.”

Ellie felt a lingering guilt as they rode away, remembering Maria’s request when she had given them supplies and let them leave for Seattle. _“Bring my dumbass husband home in one piece, please.”_ They’d only half succeeded.

* * *

Life on the farm is different from anything Ellie has ever known. It’s quiet there, and peaceful. There’s always work to do, but rarely anything urgent. It’s just her and Dina, alone together, and the more they learn about each other the more they find to love. She still has nightmares sometimes, is still transported back into the pitch black depths of her memory by seemingly random little things - the smell of burnt meat, the sound of chain rattling, the feeling of being fully submerged in water. But she’s convinced that these things will fade with time, that she can bury them under carefree days, better memories.

In her newfound free time, to keep her mind from wandering to uncomfortable places she fully embraces her artistic impulses. She writes lyrics and poetry, practices her drawing, tries out charcoal and pencilling in addition to her usual ink. Dina brings her a present back from one of her trading trips to Jackson, a set of brushes and a box of old oil paints, and she happily takes up painting as well. It hurts, at first, but she also begins to practice the guitar again. She spends long hours lying on the floor on her back, listening to records and plucking along, learning new songs by ear.

Dina’s birthday is approaching, and Ellie wants to do something nice for her. She spends two weeks learning their song, the song they’d first kissed to what felt like a lifetime ago. Painstakingly sounding out the right notes, arranging it for a single player, practicing over and over. Finally the day comes, and that night she plays for Dina. The music fills the room, mellow and rich. Her voice is thin and hesitant at first, still a little nervous after all this time, but strengthening as she plays. She gives Dina a sheepish grin when she’s finished, and Dina practically jumps on her, barely leaving her time to set her instrument aside.

Afterwards, tangled in the sheets, catching her breath, she remembers Tommy joking to her that Joel only learned the guitar to pick up girls. She puts it out of her mind quickly. Even second hand memories of him are painful. It’s so hard for her to picture his face unbroken, hear his voice not in pain. Dina notices the distant look in her eyes, asks what’s wrong. Ellie kisses her again, leaves the question deferred, as ever.

* * *

It’s late summer, and they’re planting vegetables in the garden for the fall harvest. It’s hard, dirty work, turning the soil over, adding fertilizer, seeds, water. Dina is very pregnant now, stomach swollen, and Ellie worries about her, tries to get her to just relax, but she insists she can still work. _“I’m carrying a baby, El, not one myself.”_ Ellie has come to feel a deep sense of parental responsibility for the unborn child. She lays behind Dina sometimes, pressed into her back, hand at her stomach, feels the sudden little kicks. They place a bet on whether it’s a girl or boy, talk endlessly about names.

They finish their work in the yard as dusk falls and head inside to wash up. They’re in the bathtub together, calm music drifting through the house from the phonograph, candles flickering on the sink nearby. Dina is scrubbing Ellie’s back when the first contraction comes. It’s a few weeks early, yet, and they panic for a while, but in the end it’s only false labor.

They decide to ask Jesse’s parents to stay with them until the baby comes, to have the extra hands, and so Dina will not be left alone when the time comes and someone has to go fetch the midwife from Jackson. They jump at the chance to help, to be closer to their coming grandchild. Ellie guides them back the next afternoon. They try to make small talk, meaning well, but Ellie struggles to find words beyond short, polite replies to their questions.

Back at the farm, she knows she should be grateful for their presence, the supportive kindness they show so easily to her and Dina despite all that’s happened. But she can’t help but feel intruded upon, by the added noise cluttering the house, the obligation to include them in their daily lives, the reduction in time she gets to spend alone with Dina. The baby is coming soon, though, and she knows the discomfort is more than worth it. There’s an air of excitement around the house, and she finds herself caught up in it as well, looking forward, ready to face this new chapter of her life. She loves this place. She thinks she can be happy here.

* * *

Ellie stumbles into the yard, breath coming in great, ragged gasps, desperate for air that never seems to fill her lungs. Vision blurred, head ringing, she stumbles, falls, rises and falls again, scraping her palms in the dirt. She slams her side into something - the old abandoned tractor, left to rust in their yard, a monument to the world that no longer was. She collapses to the ground and leans against it out of view from the house, heart racing, curling her legs up against her as tightly as she can.

She’d been by Dina’s side through it all, holding her hand, filling her glass with water, just smiling at one another, riding the dizzying, kaleidoscopic rush of emotion. She’s almost unbearably happy, exhilarated - until the real pain comes. Dina handles it well, as well as anyone could, but at some point she has to let it out.

The screams echo around the little room, around her head, and Ellie is back in that basement again, arms twisted roughly behind her back, face to the floor in a puddle of her own blood and spit. Begging, pleading, threatening, but the club comes down again and again and again, like it always does. She rushes out of the room without a word, bile rising in her throat. She can’t bear to look back, to see the expression on Dina’s face.

She presses herself into the cold metal side of the tractor and sobs, overwhelmed, shame and guilt constricting around her like a noose, slowly strangling her. She hurts all over, her skin feels like it’s aflame. She wants to scream but can’t catch her breath. It feels like it will never end, but eventually the terror loosens its grip on her, the panic passes.

When it’s finally gone, she’s left only with anger, starting as smoldering embers, building into white hot hellfire of rage and hatred. Partly at herself, her own weakness, her own failures, but mostly at _Abby_. _Abby. Abby. Abby._ The woman’s face hangs in her mind, along with every vile epithet she knows. _She did this to me. To us. And she just fucking **got away with it**. _She holds on to the hatred, lets it boil inside her, distill again and again. She squeezes her eyes shut against the world, clenches her fists so hard her nails draw blood, grinds her teeth until her jaw aches.

She’s still there in the yard, hours later, when Jesse’s father comes to find her. It’s a baby boy, healthy by all signs, if a bit underweight. Dina’s named him Jesse Joel. She picks herself up from the dirt, feeling like she’s run a marathon, and apologizes - just needed some air, that’s all. She knows behind the patience, the compassion, they’re all sick of her shit, even if they’re too polite to say anything.

She walks back in and Dina looks exhausted but beautiful, covered in sweat, holding her newborn close and smiling softly. Ellie sits next to her, kisses her neck and murmurs an apology, puts an arm around her as the midwife gives a boring, droning speech. JJ is awake for the moment, and she touches his hand, feels his little fingers grab instinctively at hers. She knows she should be happy, but everything just feels hollow, drained of meaning.

She’ll start over again tomorrow, and things will be different. She’s a _mother_ now, she has a greater responsibility. This feeling, this sickness, it can’t last forever. Sooner or later it will leave her and she’ll be cured, able to live a real life out of the shadows of the past. _Sooner or later..._

* * *

Even knowing it was coming, seeing the farmhouse stripped bare and lifeless hurt. Seeing all of her things stuffed into the spare room upstairs and abandoned, no note or trace of Dina left behind, deepened the wound. She felt a brief pang of regret at leaving all of her possessions, her guitar, her art and music and comics and mementos, but those things were never what made this place her home.

She’s not sure what possessed her to try to play Joel’s song one last time. It had been ugly, clear notes interrupted by the dull plinks of muted strings. The attempt had somehow cleared her mind, though, clarified her vision. She wishes things were different. But they aren’t. All that’s left to her is to keep surviving, to find something to fight for. She knows with a certainty what she wants that something to be. It’s midday, now, and she needs to reach Jackson by nightfall, can’t bear to wait another day. Ellie walks away, not looking back, marching north as quickly as her feet will carry her.


	6. Chapter 6

Ellie approaches Jackson by way of a little known trail, through a narrow, winding ravine that’s a blind spot in the normal patrol routine. She walks along the rocky slope, loose gravel crunching underfoot and tumbling down the incline, the constant babble of the stream keeping her company. She’s made good progress for being on foot, but is growing tired. She ignores the fatigue and presses on, passing through the patrol lines unseen and coming to an open field in the foothills with a clear view of her destination.

The sun is well on its way back to the horizon, its bright light tempered, bathing everything in an orange-gold glow. Jackson looks well from a distance, its familiarity a comforting sight after so long. There’s new construction to the west, trees cleared in advance of an extension of the city walls to make more room for a slowly but steadily growing population. Ellie heads for the eastern gate, the smallest and least used of the three entrances. She doesn’t want to attract unnecessary attention or questions.

The gate is manned by Mike, a patrolman she knows well, has worked with a few times. He’s tall, dark skinned, only a few years older than her. Originally from the Atlanta QZ, if she remembers right. He swings open the large window in the wall and grins at the sight of her.

“Well, fuck me. Ellie?”

“Hi, Mike. Been a while.”

“No shit.” He yells to his partner, gives the hand signal to open the gate. She enters and he approaches as the gate is swinging closed behind her. “Never thought I’d see you again. What the hell happened to you?”

“It’s… a long story. You know where Maria is? I wanna catch her before the day’s over.”

“Her usual spot, far as I know.” Ellie seems to be in a hurry, so he decides to leave the conversation there. He spreads his arms, gestures broadly towards the city center. “Welcome back to Jackson.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Ellie gives him a tired smile. “See you around.”

* * *

If anyone knows where Dina is, it will be Maria. Ellie makes for the center of Jackson, to the old courthouse that serves as a kind of command center, where Maria spends most of her time. She heads down the crowded main thoroughfare of the town, weaving in and out of foot traffic. The press of other people all around is uncomfortable, but it doesn’t feel as suffocating, dangerous, as the last time she was here. She’s almost reached her destination when a hand suddenly claps her on the shoulder.

“Ellie? God damn, is that you?” Ellie turns, alarmed, and finds Tommy at her side. He pulls her roughly into a hug before she can react. “How the hell are you, kid? You’re a damn sight for sore eyes.” She’s stiff, unnerved by the warm greeting, the sudden close contact after being away from friendly people for so long. She’s intimately aware of the angle her knee has to his groin, the proximity of her hand to her knife, how she could escape. Instead she raises an arm from her side, weakly returns the hug and pats him on the back. 

“Hi, Tommy,” she says warily.

He breaks the hug, holds her at arms length by the shoulders. “You look good. What’s it been now, six months? Seven? Shit. Come on, let me get you a beer, we’ll catch up.” Ellie hesitates. Her priorities lie elsewhere, but this is a conversation she knows she can’t avoid.

“Yeah. Okay.” He leads her down the street, limping towards the bar on the corner, still refusing any crutch or cane. “So... what have you been up to, Tommy?” she asks from behind him, trying to feel him out. She hasn’t seen much of him since Seattle. He seems a stranger to her now.

“Well, I’ve kinda taken up teaching. Marksmanship, gunsmithin’, mechanics. That sorta thing.” He pauses for a moment, laughs mirthlessly. “Those who can’t do, you know.” They enter the dimly lit bar. Still early in the evening,it’s sparsely populated. It’s warm, smells of hard liquor and wood smoke. There’s a fire already crackling in the hearth at the far end of the room. “Have a seat, have a seat. I’ll get the drinks.”

* * *

A few minutes later, they’re seated in a booth at the back of the room, the last of the setting sun’s rays streaming through the window beside them. Dust motes float aimlessly through the shafts of hazy light. They each have a tall mug of beer in front of them, pale gold and frothy.

“Alright,” Tommy says, expectantly, leaning across the table. “I gotta know. What happened?” 

“I…” Ellie clears her throat. She fixes her eyes on some indeterminate point over Tommy’s shoulder. “I made it to California. Found a boat they’d been living in. I tracked them south, found out they’d been captured a couple months back by some hunters there, called themselves the Rattlers. Real nasty fuckers. They were abducting people, keeping them as slaves.” Ellie took a long pull on her beer. “Anyway. I fought through the camp and released some prisoners, who told me where Abby was. She’d tried to escape. They tied her and the boy to posts on the beach, facing each other. Left them to die in the sun.”

Tommy leans back against the booth, exhaling heavily. “Shit.” He pauses for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. “Then…”

Ellie had considered her response long and hard over the past few months. Whether he would understand. What she owed him, if anything. She runs her tongue along the front of her teeth, then meets his gaze. “They were already dead when I got there, Tommy. It’s over.” 

He says nothing for a moment, just looks down at the table and traces a pattern in the condensation there. Finally he speaks, voice flat. “Got what they deserved, I guess.” Ellie lifts the glass of beer to her lips again and does not respond. They sit in heavy silence for a long time, both lost in thought. Traffic on the street outside starts to dwindle, and more people file into the bar, chattering idly. At length Tommy spoke. “Goddamn, Ellie, your hand…”

“It’s... fine. I can get by,” she says dismissively, rubbing the back of her neck with her good hand, moving the injured one from the tabletop into her lap. 

His mouth works like he's going to say something, then he frowns and lets out a sigh. He's no stranger to losing parts of himself. “Look, Ellie. About that day, on your farm…” he stops short, struggling for words, hunched over and looking down at his hands on the table in front of him.

Ellie turns her gaze to the side, out the window. The sun had set behind the mountains, but the moon hadn't risen yet, the world briefly stranded in a liminal state between night and day. The streetlights start to flicker on as she watches. It doesn’t seem like Tommy will continue, so she interrupts. “It’s not your fault, Tommy” she says, distantly. “I blamed you, for a while. But the truth is… the truth is I was always going to go after her.”  _ Always going to fuck everything up.  _ “You just... gave me an excuse.” He swallows hard and looks away. She’s not sure he believes her, but it’s the honest truth. It had been hard for her to accept, but ultimately undeniable. He’s the first to talk again. 

“I been... tryin’ to keep an eye on Dina and the boy, for you.” he offers. “‘Much as I can when she won’t speak to me, anyway…”

Ellie turns back, focus suddenly sharpened. “So they’re here, in Jackson?”

“Ah, yeah. She’s livin’ in that little place on the corner of Oak Street, next door to Jesse’s parents. With the blue siding.”

Ellie is equal parts relieved and frightened. She knows the place. So close, now. “How, uh… how is she?”

“Doin’... fine, far as I can tell. She’s back on patrol duty. Boy’s growin’ like a weed.”

She gulps down the rest of her beer, bitter and warm, sets the mug back on the table with a hollow thunk. “I need to go see her.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” he says. She grabs her backpack and stands, unsure of what to say. He looks up at her, face blank. “You have a good night, Ellie.”

“You too, Tommy.”

* * *

Ellie’s feet carry her slowly, inexorably, almost unconsciously, to the street and house Tommy had identified. It’s in a quiet part of town, mostly empty of other pedestrians, and the people she does pass on her way she doesn’t recognize. Night has well and truly fallen now, and brought a biting cold with it.

The house is small, much smaller than the farmhouse, barely bigger than Ellie’s old place. The front of it is dark, but there’s light coming from a side window near the rear. She approaches, suddenly aware again of how tired she is from the day’s hard journey, how her legs and feet ache. 

She stands there for a time, frozen in place, breath steaming in the air before her. The last ten steps seem a greater distance than all the previous thousands combined. She tries to collect herself, prepare for whatever may come, but her mind flits in every direction, refuses to still. She’s reminded of that night, nearly two years ago now, when so much began, so much ended. Finally she forces herself forward, takes a deep breath, knocks on the door.

* * *

Dina knows, deep down, the moment Ellie turns her back to her, that she's not coming back. Still she stays on the farm for three days, tries to carry on. She does what she can during the day, but she also has JJ to attend to, and important chores go undone. The garden begins to sprout weeds, there's no time to hunt or check her snares or forage. At night she says a little prayer, lights a lamp, then sits on the porch and tries to read. She stays up far too late, bites her fingernails down to the quick. She can’t help but feel betrayed all over again when no one, nothing, materializes out of the darkness.

On the fourth day she returns to Jackson, trades away the livestock and excess supplies, and on the fifth she’s back at the farm with help, packing her life away. Ellie’s things she has moved into her art room and left untouched. When it’s done, she sits down on the stripped bed they used to share to write a note. She starts and stops, tries again, then again. The words are bitter, resentful, and that’s not who she wants to be. She burns them and leaves.

Back in Jackson, once all her belongings are unloaded, stuffed into every bit of storage space Jesse’s parents have remaining in their home, she goes to see Maria. The courthouse is crowded, bustling as always with people come to file complaints, make requests, seek mediation for a disagreement or assistance with a project to improve the community. Dina waits in line, leaning against the wall, mind wandering near and far.

Finally it’s her turn, and she pushes her way through the heavy door into the office. Maria is seated at a large wooden desk, covered in organized papers and notebooks. She’s writing something in a ledger, scribbling rapidly. A shotgun leans against the wall behind her, below a wide window with a view of the street below. There’s a bookshelf to one side of the room, stuffed with more notebooks and records, and a couch to the other, underneath a huge watercolor painting of a mountainous landscape. 

Maria looks up from her writing as she enters. Dina thinks she sees a bit of surprise on her face, but isn’t quite sure. Maria’s poker face is nearly legendary around Jackson. Dina is sure it’s a considerable asset in her line of work. She’s admired Maria for a long time, looked up to her, even. While for years Tommy and Joel had organized patrols and kept the town safe from external threats, Maria had handled the equally demanding task of running things inside the walls. Settling disputes, allocating resources, acting as a kind of town planner, judge, and sheriff all in one. An exceedingly difficult job, but Maria does it well, maintaining a reputation for impartiality and fairness, along with the respect of the community.

“Dina. What are you doing back in Jackson?”

“I’m moving back, if you’ll have me. I’m fit to return to patrol duty”

Maria leans back in her chair. “Where’s Ellie?” she asks, reluctantly.

“She… she left. She went after the girl from Seattle, again. I couldn’t stop her.”

Maria’s eyes narrowed, her jaw set. There’s an edge in her voice when she speaks. “This have anything to do with Tommy?” Dina frowns tightly, doesn’t answer immediately. Maria curls her lip, answers her own question. “Yeah…” Her fingers drum rapidly on the desk in front of her, then stop. “Well. We’re happy to have you. I’m afraid we don’t have any empty houses inside the perimeter at the moment. We’ll have to find you someone to bunk with temporarily until something opens up.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Jesse’s parents offered. I can stay there, for now.”

“Alright.” Maria sighs, rubs her temple. “It’s a damn shame. I really hoped you girls would make it.” 

Dina nods, a faraway look in her eyes. “Yeah, just. Just let me know about patrol. When to report.” 

Maria regards her sadly for a moment. “Sure thing.”

* * *

Dina does what she always has, what she takes great pride in, and survives. She’d made it through the loss of her parents, her sister, and this wouldn’t be any different. She returns to patrol duty, and is grateful when they take the time to ease her back into the swing of things. It’s been a long time since she’s had to clear a building of infected, to kill for something other than food. Everything is a little different, since Joel and Tommy aren’t running the show, but they’ve taught their successors well, and patrols are still run safely and smoothly.

Tommy comes around, shortly after she returns to Jackson. He knocks late one night, looking contrite and smelling of booze when she answers the door. She slams it shut in his face and throws the deadbolt.

Dina often volunteers at the daycare on days she’s not on patrol. She’s always had a soft spot for kids, and the fondness has only intensified since she had JJ. It feels good to bring new life into the world, nurture it. To have something to put on the scales of her life opposite all the killing. She likes the days they do art projects the best, seeing innocent, unfiltered creativity splashed all over in a big mess of color.

The house next to Jesse’s parents comes open after a couple months, and Maria makes sure it’s assigned to Dina. It’s small, almost cramped when there’s company, but she’s grateful to have her own space again, a place she can shape around her, make her home. She also relishes the ability to have some privacy, time just to herself and JJ. As grateful as she is for JJ’s grandparents, she needs the separation, the independence.

After she moves out, Jesse’s mother tries incessantly to set her up on dates, to “find someone to take care of her”, in her words. One day Dina is feeling particularly lonely and relents, agrees to go out with the latest match she’s offered. It’s one of Jesse’s old friends, a young man named Ethan who works in Jackson as a rancher and tanner. 

They hike up into the mountains and picnic in the late afternoon, on a cliffside with a beautiful view of the fall foliage all around. They make small talk, trade get-to-know-you questions. She learns a lot about cows. He takes an interest in JJ, and they even reminisce about Jesse for a while, exchanging stories of him. How he’d been the first to jump off a 30 foot waterfall they’d found near Jackson. How he’d been too cocky and gotten thrown off his horse as a teenager just learning to ride, broken his wrist. How he’d covered for Dina, the first time she drank alcohol and got sloppy drunk. Ellie had been wasted along with her, then, but she doesn’t mention that.

She has a good time, and they stay out too late, barely make it out of the mountains by the time darkness falls. Once they’re safely back in Jackson, he walks her to her house, and she kisses him goodnight, leaning in close and rising onto her tiptoes to reach him. He tastes of tobacco, smells like leather and tannin. All she can think of is how it’s different, wrong somehow. How it’s not charcoal and paint, wet soil and lavender soap. She feels nothing, and hates herself for it, a little.

They stay friends, and Dina gradually forges other new friendships as well, with her patrol partners and fellow volunteers at the daycare. It’s difficult, having JJ to take care of, and a much different dynamic than what she’s used to. But she finds time where she can, and makes the effort. She especially likes the comfort of having other parents around, people she can talk to for advice or sympathy when JJ is sick, or not eating well, or sleeping poorly.

JJ is growing fast, changing every day. He’s clumsily walking around now, learning new words, lighting up and developing his own personality. He gets into absolutely everything in the house not nailed down or sealed shut. It’s a whole new kind of exhausting chasing him around, preventing him from eating dirt or otherwise harming himself in creative ways, but it’s also so much  _ fun _ .

Dina visits Jesse’s grave occasionally. There’s no body, but they’ve placed a marker for him, between two empty plots where his parents will end up someday. She leans against the smooth stone and talks to him about his son, how proud he’d be of him. About memories, new and old, funny stories and strange happenings. It’s comforting, how she’s learned to deal with loss. She still talks to Talia every once in a while, too, in quiet moments she has all to herself.

She tries not to think of Ellie. Death she’s accustomed to, accepting of, as an inevitability. Being abandoned is a different kind of hurt. She has no idea what’s become of her, or even if she’s dead or alive. Little reminders of her are everywhere in Jackson, sparking sour anger or melancholy, depending on her mood. But eventually the feelings start to fade, dulled by time in the way everything is, and she goes on with her life.

* * *

Dina is in bed when the knock comes at her door, almost too soft to hear. She’s reading a book by flickering lamplight, JJ curled up at her side fast asleep. He’s holding his favorite stuffed toy, a little pink ball with one eye and pointy teeth. The book is a sci-fi novel, a space opera where, she feels it safe to assume, the hero will get the girl and save the universe in the end. She’d always teased Ellie about her love for the cheesy things, but they’d quickly become a guilty pleasure once she gave one a try. She lays the book aside and gently extricates herself from JJ and the cozy warmth of her bed.

_ Who the hell’s coming around this late?  _ Frowning, she pulls on a pair of sweats, then grabs her pistol off the nightstand and pads down the hall, ugly possibilities running through her mind.  _ Infected inside the walls? Bandits mounting an attack? Surely something like that would warrant more than a light tap at her door.  _ She flicks her weapon’s safety off, the porch light on, then unbolts the door and yanks it open wide. 

There’s a ghost on her doorstep, a long lost specter come back to haunt her again. Just when she thought she was free of her, done hearing her voice in crowds, done seeing her disappearing around the next street corner. She’s shocked at first, then hit by a wild wave of emotion - anger, disbelief, sadness, warmth, disgust. But above it all, she’s surprised to find the strongest feeling is a simple, quiet  _ relief.  _ “Ellie,” she breathes.

Ellie feels her heart pounding in her chest, so hard it seems like it should be shaking her whole body. It’s good to finally see Dina again, and she drinks in the sight of her. She looks well - tired, but healthy and uninjured, face full of color and life as always. Her expression is neutral, a little surprised, as she slips her gun into her waistband behind her. She takes a step out onto the porch and closes the door quietly behind her. 

Ellie shifts her weight from one foot to another, hands flexing with nervous energy. “Dina,” Ellie began, voice faltering. “Please just hear me out. I… fuck… it’s so good to see you. I came a thousand miles to see you again, and I would’ve come a thousand more if I had to. I realized, after I left, I… I wasn’t… I couldn’t...” She feels like she’s rambling, stumbling over her words, any plan she’d had of what to say disintegrated with first contact. She cuts herself off with a short sigh. Nothing she can think to say seems adequate.  _ Just get to the point.  _ “Dina, I’m sorry. I… I love you.”

Anger rises in Dina, hot and quick. Her face screws into a pained smile and she looks away, licks her lips. “That’s it? After all this time, you just knock on my door, say you’re sorry… and what am I supposed to do? You were gone for  _ so long _ . I thought you were fucking dead. I was going to have them put a gravestone for you next to Joel.” Her voice rises as she speaks, months of pent up anger coming out in a rush. “You left me… us… all alone. Do you have any idea what those days on the farm were like? Watching everything slowly fall apart around me, go to rot, not being able to do a damn thing about it? Do you think I can just… forget about that? How the hell can I ever trust you again?”

Ellie swallows and looks down, anxiously twisting the bracelet on her wrist. “I can’t... change the past. If I could, I would. But I realize now, what I want my life to be. To mean.” She raises her eyes, her voice earnest, level. “You were right, the morning I left. She wasn’t more important than you, than our family. Nothing is.”

Dina struggles to find words. It’s an unfamiliar feeling for her, being tongue tied. She blinks rapidly, fighting back tears. She’s torn, all the history between them flashing in her mind. But ultimately she finds she’s terrified of letting Ellie in again, opening herself back up to her, to being hurt by her. She crosses her arms, wraps them tight around herself and speaks, sounding quiet, small. “I told you, that morning. I told you I wouldn’t do this again.”

Ellie feels cold, feels her heart drop. There’s a long pause, and she wants to keep fighting this, but she has no weapons up to the task, no response to the undeniable truth. She’s prepared herself for this possibility.  _ That’s up to you,  _ she’d said. She’d known what was at stake then. She has to accept Dina’s decision now. She nods, slowly. “I… understand. I just... needed to say that. To see you, one more time.” She exhales, long and slow, and it feels like something else leaves her along with the expired air. “I’m sorry, Dina. Goodbye.”

Ellie turns her back to go, again, and Dina is struck with a sudden certainty that if she leaves this time, disappears into the night, she really won’t be coming back. The thought is a shock to her, and its abruptness, its finality, shakes her resolve. She can’t bear it. “Ellie, wait.”

Ellie stops, half turns, lips pressed together, eyes closed. She tries to keep her voice even. “It’s okay, Dina. Really, it’s okay. If you don’t want to see me again-”

“Ellie, stop! Stop it. I was fucking angry… there were times I  _ hated _ you for leaving us. I felt betrayed... thrown away. I still do. But not once…” She’s crying now, unable to hold it back any longer. “Not once did I think that I didn’t want you to make it back. That I didn’t want to see you again.”

Ellie hates to see her cry, to know she’s the cause of it, again. She takes a few steps back towards Dina, but stops just short, an anguished look on her face. She wants intensely to go to her, embrace her, comfort her, but it’s not her place anymore. 

Dina runs the back of her hand across her face, wipes the tears away. She looks up, her deep brown eyes seeking out the pale green of Ellie’s. A long, still moment passes between them, balanced on a knife’s edge. Dina breaks the silence, voice steadied and calm.

“Do you.... do you want to come inside? Talk?”

Ellie breathes in, and it feels like the first full breath she’s taken in months. Like an unseen weight, constantly pressing down on her, has lifted. It fills long-empty parts of her, buoys her, makes her feel lighter. She scarcely trusts herself to speak.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”


	7. Chapter 7

Dina sits slouched over her kitchen table, resting her head on one arm, the other stretched out in front of her, a few stray locks of hair falling over her face. She regards the woman sleeping on her couch, troubled. They’d talked late into the night, over water and some leftover soup and bread she’d offered upon getting a closer look at Ellie. Her former lover was skinnier than ever, her face gaunt. Her extended time on the road had ground her down, sharpened her, until she was all wiry muscle and sinew and bone. Dina mostly just listened, as Ellie relayed the story of her desperate, treacherous journey across the country. Hunting down her target, finally coming face to face with her. And then, shockingly, letting her go. 

Dina was surprised when she heard that part of the story. Surprised, and at first, angry, and hurt. The person Ellie abandoned Dina and JJ for, the person who’d killed Joel and Jesse - she had sacrificed so much to find her, and then just let her go? It was hard to believe, harder to understand. Dina had seen first hand how ruthless, single minded Ellie could be pursuing her goal. Her explanation had been jumbled, difficult to make sense of, but ultimately Ellie seemed convinced that it was the right thing to do. She did seem finally at peace with it all, somehow. Calm and still, where before there were erratic undercurrents, nervous energy. Fully present, not lost in her history.

While describing her journey back to Jackson, Ellie had started to nod off mid-sentence, weary from her long day of travel. They agreed to leave things there for the time being, and Ellie made to leave. Dina had offered her couch, almost reflexively, and now here she sat, unable to tear her eyes away from the sleeping form in her living room. She feels a strange sense of surreality, wonders if this isn’t all just a dream, a mirage that will fade out of existence if she looks away. If she’ll wake in the morning alone again, except for JJ.

She shifts her thoughts towards the future, tries to think things through coldly, analytically. Her son is her first priority, now. Can she really let Ellie back into her life, into JJ’s life? Does she even want to? A small, spiteful part of her dislikes even entertaining the idea. It’s a risk, undoubtedly. She tries to weigh the question impartially in her mind, stack potential benefits against drawbacks, lingering resentment against relief, but gets nowhere. Where Ellie is concerned, purely rational thought hasn’t been a thing for Dina for a long time. 

Exhausted herself, Dina finally rises and locks her front door. She makes for the hallway to her bedroom, then stops and considers. She walks back into the living room and pulls a large, grey knitted blanket out of a chest in the corner. She shakes it out quietly, then spreads it over Ellie. The look on her sleeping face is blank, untroubled. Dina returns to the comforting warmth of her bed and sleeps deeply.

* * *

Ellie visits Maria the next morning to make arrangements to rejoin Jackson. Maria seems to be expecting her, somehow, tipped off by local gossip or the gate entry logs. Ellie’s in luck - they’ve just finished renovating an old apartment building, and there’s a single-occupant dorm with her name on it, provided she’s willing to help out with patrols again.

The apartment building is on the outskirts of town, a plain, practical-looking brick structure. She finds her room on the second floor, keys it open and steps inside. It’s clean, smells faintly of bleach. There’s a small bed in one corner, a single window opposite the door allowing sunlight to stream in. She drops her pack to the floor, sits on the bed. This place is empty except for a few necessities, and Ellie realizes she has nothing but herself to fill the remaining space. It’s kind of sad, but also freeing. It feels like starting over.

She checks the cistern and finds it full of water, so she takes a much needed shower. The water is frigid, and she gasps when it first hits her skin, but after the initial shock it feels wonderful, invigorating. She washes away all the sweat and grime, scrubs until her skin is flushed pink and tender. She steps out of the shower feeling refreshed, energetic even. 

She wants to see Dina again, continue their conversation from the previous night, but she’s not sure how. She doesn’t want to be presumptuous, push things too quickly, make her uncomfortable. It had been awkward, earlier that morning. Dina woke her in a rush, having overslept, late for her shift at the daycare. She was scrambling around the house, trying to get herself and JJ ready to go, and she shooed Ellie out with only a quick assurance that they would speak again. 

Ellie caught a brief glimpse of JJ just before the door shut, toddling unsteadily into the living room, babbling to his mother, bundled up in a puffy green winter jacket and a trapper hat. Her little potato, walking and talking, cute as ever. She’s been gone for nearly half his life, and she wonders if he remembers her at all. She’d turned and hurried away, eyes burning.

Ellie towels herself off, then picks through her bag for the cleanest articles of clothing she owns and slips them on. The shower combined with the best night of sleep she’s had in months has her feeling positively upbeat, ready to go. But now, she finds herself with no road to travel, no mission to spur her on. Ellie lays on her bed with a sigh, flat on her back, arms and legs splayed out wide. She stares at the ceiling, lets her mind wander, dozing off and on, reveling in the simple privilege of laziness.

After a while her stomach growls, a long low rumbling, and she’s reminded of just how hungry she is. She decides to brave the midday crowd and get some lunch from the commissary. She sits up and reaches for her boots, then stops. Instead she digs her old faithful sneakers, soles worn thin, out of the bottom of her pack. She shoves them on, laces them up, and then, feeling almost like her old self again, ventures out into town.

* * *

Ellie knocks on her door again that night, and again Dina lets her in. They talk for a while, and Dina tells her own tale of the time they’ve been apart. They try to come to some greater understanding of what their relationship is now, but it remains uncertain. The gap between them can’t be bridged so quickly, so easily. 

Forgiveness seems nearly impossible at first, but Dina resolves to try. She works at it, every day. Slowly, in bits and pieces, she excavates it from within herself, but not alone. The days go by, stretch into weeks, then months, and she finds forgiveness in the little things. 

* * *

When they’re assigned to patrol together for the first time, as luck would have it, they’re assigned to the old creek trail. Dina is worried it will be awkward. But she finds there’s still a kind of wordless rapport between them, an awareness of what the other will do that requires no explanation. The easy, implicit trust Ellie shows in Dina’s abilities, even after so long apart, is endearing. 

They come to the guard post with the logbook, and Dina goes to sign for them. Ellie steps outside onto the balcony, leans over it, rubbing her hands together for warmth. Dina neatly prints their names and the all clear note, then joins her. She takes in the view for a moment, of the rugged mountains dotted with tall dark pines, all covered in a thin blanket of snow, so similar to the last time they were here. She takes a deep breath of the cold, crisp air and turns to examine her partner. Ellie looks better, the security and readily available food in Jackson starting to round out and soften her features.

The silence that falls over them is only a little uncomfortable. Ellie licks her lips, dry and chapped from the cold, then asks “So uhm... how’s JJ doing?” Her visits to Dina have been frequent, but always after his bedtime.

“Just fine. He’s… energetic, let’s call it. Getting too smart for his own good. His grandparents are watching him today.” Dina watches Ellie’s reaction out of the corner of her eye. She looks down and away, takes a deep breath like she’s gathering herself to say something. Dina speaks first, lightly. “You can come over earlier to see him, if you want. I’m sure he misses you.”

Ellie brings a hand up to scratch her nose, then looks over at Dina, serious. “Yeah, okay. I will.”

Dina gives her a small smile, then decides to have some fun. She looks back out over the scenery. “I went on a date, recently.”

“...Oh.”

“We had a lovely time. I even kissed him goodnight.”

Ellie feels awkward, caught way off balance. Lamely, she responds “How, uh… how’d that go?”

Dina makes a show of thinking about it. “Hmmmm. I give it a… five.”

* * *

They’re in the Jackson commissary some days later, seated at a flimsy folding table and talking over a lunch of fresh spring salads. Dina asks for the story of what happened to Ellie’s left hand. She tells her, short and matter of fact. Then, soberly, she asks “You know what they call it when you lose 20% of your touch?”

Dina arches an eyebrow. “Uhh, no… what?”

“Ouch”. Ellie’s face splits into a big, goofy grin, proud of herself. Dina groans theatrically, buries her head in her hands to hide her own broad smile.

* * *

Ellie can sense, sometimes, that Dina needs space, time apart, and does her best to give it to her. She picks up spare shifts around town, helps out at the gunsmith and the stables. She trades for a few books, art supplies, decorations, tries to bring some life to her little apartment.

Eventually she works up the courage to visit the graveyard. It’s a warm, bright day, not a cloud in the sky. She kneels in front of Joel’s grave, wonders what he’d say if he could see her now, hear what she’d been up to since he died. She can just see the stern look on his face, hear the not-mad-just-disappointed grumbling. 

She smiles sadly, then reaches into her pocket and withdraws the old, broken watch, forever frozen at 2:15 AM. It’s the last thing she has of him. She stays a while, turns it over in her hands, runs her fingers along the spider web of cracks in its face. She’d been planning to leave it here with him, where it belongs, but finds she can’t do it. Muttering an apology, she slides it back into her pocket. She thinks he’d understand, wouldn’t begrudge her this.

* * *

A few months after Ellie’s return to Jackson, Dina is called away unexpectedly to help a friend, and she asks Ellie to watch JJ for her. When she returns, entering her home quietly at dusk, she finds them sprawled on the floor, paper and pencils and crayons scattered all around them. Neither of them notice her at first, and Ellie is singing a silly little song to JJ as they scribble away. Dina just watches them for a moment before announcing herself, feeling an irrepressible, warming rush of affection. 

Time passes, and gradually Dina lets go of the lingering anger, the bitterness, casts it off and leaves it behind. Together they rebuild the trust between them that was lost.

Ellie still has moments where she gets unnaturally quiet, retreats inside herself. To a cold chalet basement, surrounded by wolves. A hospital hallway, red, red everywhere. An abandoned aquarium, deafening thunder shaking the walls. A beach, the nauseating stench of decay, tall pillars all around, monuments to death. Salt Lake City, empty and abandoned. These things she’ll never forget. They will always be a part of her, woven into the fabric of who she is.

But with a little prodding, she begins to talk about them. She shares her guilt, and feels it lessen in the process. She tells Dina the full story about what happened between her and Joel, what he’d done for her, to her. About the fireflies, their ill fated search for a cure. She also tells her about the good times, rare halcyon days and moments of respite. Dina takes it all in stride.

* * *

One quiet evening they’re in Dina’s living room, JJ asleep in his crib, windows flung open wide to let in the fresh spring breeze. They're sitting side by side on the couch, sipping bourbon, playing a kart racing video game. The liquor is strong but smooth, all honeyed vanilla and caramel and oak. Ellie has a comfortable lead in the last lap, but then Dina springs a particularly clever, lucky trap, sabotaging Ellie and zooming past her just before the finish line. Ellie is indignant at first, but Dina’s laughter is contagious, irresistible, and she has to join in. 

After a moment they calm down, catch their breath. And then Dina leans in, and they’re kissing, and it’s just like the first time, uncertain and thrilling and dangerous. Only this time, there’s no crowd, no one to interrupt them. No one to stop the kiss from continuing, deepening. No one to stop Dina from running her hand up Ellie’s leg, under the hem of her shirt, tracing her waistband inward across her hip. Ellie from moving her lips to Dina’s neck, throwing her leg across her, straddling her and pressing as much of herself against her as she can. 

Ellie grinds her hips into her, desperate for friction, blood singing in her head, all lucid thought fleeing her mind. Dina hisses as she feels teeth gently nip at her neck, tugs at Ellie’s shirt with one hand, runs the other up her taut stomach, seeking the soft curves of her breasts. They fall into each other all over again, and it feels so good, like coming home. The remaining uncertainty between them vanishes in an instant, the tension releases, and they’re brought finally crashing back together.

* * *

Months later, Dina is in the kitchen, standing over the stove, her cooking filling the house with enticing aromas of rosemary, thyme and venison. JJ runs squealing through the kitchen and Ellie playfully chases him close behind, laughing. She goes to squeeze behind Dina and slams her foot into a chair, stubbing her toe, then stumbles into the countertop and bangs her hip against it hard. She winces, curses. 

Dina glances over, light concern on her face. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Ellie stands there for a few seconds, side and foot smarting, then just blurts out what’s been on her mind for a while. “Why don’t we move back to the farm?”

Dina is quiet at first, focus back on her task. After a moment she seems satisfied, looks up. “Why?”

Ellie turns to face her, braces her arms on the countertop behind her. “Well… it was your dream. This place is so small, crowded compared to that. Don’t you want to?”

Dina thinks about it briefly, tilts her head. “I... loved the time we had there. I’ll always remember it. But it’s over, and that's fine. That’s not my dream anymore. We don’t have to try to go back, make things like they used to be. I’m happy here, now. Moving forward.”

Ellie smiles softly. “...Okay.” 

JJ returns to the kitchen, upset his pursuer has given up the chase. He reaches for her and she snatches him up, braces him against her side. “Hey little buddy. Ready to eat?”

“Eat, eat!” he responds enthusiastically.

Ellie takes a closer look at the meal Dina’s been working on as she sets the table. “Damn, that smells good. So, what is it now? Your dream, I mean.”

Dina approaches, a glint in her eye, leans in close enough that Ellie can feel her breath. She pitches her voice low. “You’re livin’ in it.”

Ellie’s lip quirks. “You’re such a sap.”

Dina kisses her playfully, teasing. “Come on. Before it gets cold,” she says, grinning.

Ellie deposits JJ in his high chair, then takes her own seat with a sigh. Their little family all together, they have dinner and fill the house with happy chatter. The food is wonderful, the company even more so, and Ellie is content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends my attempt to process this incredible game. Had a little trouble with the last chapter, hope it doesn't come across too maudlin or out of character. I just want them to be happy :cry:. Despite all the misery and loss in the ending of the game, I do think there's room for hope. At least until part 3.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
